


Proper Negotiations

by Raaage



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aggression, Because I can, Consensual, Gift Fic, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Smut, Trans Character, Vaginal Sex, from both sides, ganlink, old stuff, rough, tongue-fucking, trans!Link, unconventional politics, zelda is probably the best part of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 15:44:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13193286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raaage/pseuds/Raaage
Summary: There’s only one proper way to ease the tension between two feuding nations.





	Proper Negotiations

**Author's Note:**

> OLD STUFF. This is Ganondorf/trans!Link smut for cumswallowprince on tumblr. :D.

 

“Make it work with that Hylian bitch, or it’s over between us!”

 

Those had been Kotake and Koume’s last words before they’d taken to the skies and left Ganondorf in the dust, his stallion snorting, impatient to start upon the long road to Hyrule. The Gerudo king stood on the precipice of disownment; amongst the desert-dwellers, to be disinherited meant being stripped of the magic passed down from father to daughter, mother to son. Ganondorf would lose the sorcerous powers he’d been born with and had worked all his life to cultivate. He would be drained of his very blood.

 

As the Hylian senators droned on around him, Ganondorf kneaded his forehead. How he missed the straightforward political functions of the Gerudo. They were a people who knew that time was gold, that as they bickered, the desert winds were hammering their civilization into dust. The Hylian politicians, on the other hand, acted like they were being paid by the word, bonus rupees for the ones that gave your tongue a cramp.

 

Here they sat, cloaked in a pound or more of finery, lining a long table in Zelda’s council room. The princess herself sat at the table’s head, looking just as bored as Ganondorf. If only he could change the subject back to the war reparations Hyrule owed is desert neighbor. Zelda’s stoic features had stirred when he’d mentioned it. After all, it was the one issue in which she had something to lose.

 

“How I wish I was going with you,” Kotake had said. “That Princess Zelda—I’d love to sink my teeth into her!” The old crone bared her dentures.

 

 _How I wish you were going instead of me,_ Ganondorf had thought, but that sort of whining did not inspire confidence. Thus, he said, “My words will batter her until she gives us what she owes.”

 

Koume’s eyes gleamed. “Ravage her! Literally, if you must!”

 

Ganondorf winced. It was rumored that Princess Zelda nursed a terrible sadistic streak. Ganondorf could just imagine her wanting to step on his balls.

 

Kotake clapped a shriveled, claw-like hand on his arm. “For our people.”

 

In the council chamber, Ganondorf shifted in his seat, discreetly trying to unstick his sweaty thighs from his pants. Around him, the senators continued to drone. ‘For our people, for our people,’ Ganondorf chanted in his head. ‘For our people, for our—’

 

“Lord Ganondorf!”

 

Ganondorf looked up. Princess Zelda was on her feet. Everyone was staring at him, including Link, Zelda’s personal attack dog. This was unusual, since Link hardly ever took his eyes off the doors, windows, or alcoves from which assassins could spring at any moment. His heavy-lidded gaze might’ve been alluring if Ganondorf hadn’t known he was probably half asleep, given the setting.

 

“We have been talking for far too long,” said Zelda. “This meeting is adjourned. We will resume and conclude tomorrow morning.”

 

Tomorrow—his last day in Hyrule. Ganondorf scowled. Time had trickled through his fingers faster than expected. He had to act now, or his twin mothers would curse him begone.

 

With grace surprising for a man of his size, he slid away from the table and eased his way through the crowd to Zelda’s side. When she did not acknowledge him, Ganondorf bent to her ear. “Your Grace, you owe the Gerudo dearly. Your once-enemies are now your allies, and you should see justice done and finished with.”

 

“Yes, yes,” Zelda said, only half listening. “The specifics we have yet to agree upon.”

 

“Obviously!” Ganondorf said. “That’s why we’re gathered here in this damn room!”

 

Zelda blew a wayward hair out of her face, her lips pinching as it settled exactly where it had been before. “Are you insisting that we expedite this issue and resolve it between just the two of us?”

 

“Clearly.”

 

“Very well. My bedroom, tonight.”

 

“Yes,” said Ganondorf, triumphant. “Wait! Your _bedroom_?”

 

Zelda’s voice was frigid. “In my bedroom there happens to be an o _ffice_ _desk_. I find it rather convenient, being able to work and jump straight into bed. Now…” She turned on her heel. As Link rose to meet her, she lay a lace-covered hand on his shoulder and whispered into his ear. Link froze, then glanced at Ganondorf and smirked like a cat who’d stolen cream right out of a child’s mouth.

 

 _Office desk my ass,_ thought Ganondorf. _She’s going to step on my balls_.

 

Zelda and Link exchanged a few more quiet words. Ganondorf couldn’t see Zelda’s face, but he had full view of Link’s; the soft crook of his lip expressed both humor and, beneath it, a sharper, more dangerous edge. The Gerudo glowered back at him, but in his veins his blood quivered with excitement.

 

0-0-0

 

 

The moon, large and yellow-bellied, neared its zenith in the sky. No word from Zelda.

 

Ganondorf paced in his room, his palms sweating and his nerves a-crackle. Clearly, this was part of her game. She thought she would win if he arrived fraught with agitation. Well, it would not work!

 

Her bodyguard, though… Ganondorf wouldn’t mind having to visit him. As Link hounded Zelda’s every step, Ganondorf got to see him at least once every day. They sparred during Link’s rare moments of freedom, and once, on a prior trip, Link had escorted the Gerudo on a ride through Hyrule’s countryside. Though it might have just been Ganondorf’s wishful thinking, he guessed that his attraction was not one-sided. Sometimes Ganondorf would, in the longer parts of his days, shoot a glance at Link. The Hylian sometimes smiled as if he had a secret.

 

A low, somber ringing reached Ganondorf’s ears. From his window he could spot the bell tower of the Temple of Time. Twelve clangs of bronze on bronze. “I’ve had it!” the Gerudo said. He ripped open his door and stormed down the hall.

 

Oh, he would pay the princess a visit. He would knock down her door and skewer Her Highness with the sharpest, most scalding words he could muster, words fiery enough to burn Nayru herself. The girl would be so disgraced that she would capitulate to his every demand, and Ganondorf would return home, mission accomplished.

 

At last, he reached the royal chambers. A light flickered beneath the door. While Ganondorf had hoped to tear Zelda from her pleasant dreams, humiliating her in her nightgown would have to do. He barged inside—

 

Sitting in a chair by the fire wasn’t the princess—it was Link. And he was wearing no more than his green tunic.

 

He didn’t start at Ganondorf’s intrusion, simply continuing to stare into the fire. Light and shadow danced across his bare legs. The tunic draped over his shoulders and lap like longue-wear. Leisurely, he turned his head towards Ganondorf and gave him such a look that goose bumps sprang along the Gerudo’s arms.

 

“Good evening.” Link’s voice was smooth and light, yet undeniably masculine.

 

Ganondorf opened his mouth only to let out a breathy, hacking noise. It seemed he had lost his voice somewhere along the walk to Zelda’s quarters. At last, he swallowed and said, “The Princess. She was supposed to summon me.”

 

With a lithe grace Link stood and stretched, his back arching. His tunic skirt pulled up, its hem rising just shy of Link’s crotch.

 

“Should I leave?” said Ganondorf, though he was rooted to the spot. Nothing short of Din’s command could tear his eyes from the smooth lines of Link’s legs; scars ran along his skin, rivers on a map of flesh.

 

It was then that Ganondorf realized that he’d walked deeper into the bedroom and right in front of Link. The door swung shut behind him like the devil’s work. In the firelight, Link’s eyes glowed an intense mix of blue and molten gold. Ganondorf tried to swallow but his mouth ran dry.

 

Link circled him, wolflike. “Princess Zelda is very frustrated with you. In general, she considers you to be a narrow-minded, contentious, inconsiderate old man.”

 

“’Old man!’” Ganondorf’s fists clenched, a quiet pop punctuating his words.

 

“Her words exactly,” said Link. “However, she does admit that Hyrule can be more generous. You will have your war reparations, just not as much gold and goods as you demanded. To make up for the loss, you will get this—” With open arms, Link gestured to himself. ‘See, look here,’ said the smile on his face.

 

“I thought prostitution was frowned upon in this country,” Ganondorf said woodenly, trying to ignore his sudden surge of excitement.

 

“This isn’t prostitution. This is politics. Anything goes in politics.”

 

Ganondorf cursed quietly in Gerudian. If only this race of tiny people were a tad more prone to reason. “If these are the terms, where is the contract?”

 

“This way,” Link said. He led them to Zelda’s desk upon which sat a long parchment. The desk itself was an efficient fusion between a tabletop and bureau dresser; there was even a large mirror at its back. Link leaned against furnishing, the edge of his tunic riding up in a suggestive manner.

 

 _I knew we’d be fucking on this thing!_ thought Ganondorf.

 

Link tapped the parchment with a finger. “Her Grace, of course, is absent from this meeting. If you agree to her terms, sign at the bottom, and she will add her pen tomorrow morning.”

 

Ganondorf released a snort. “You’re fools to think that I would forsake my nation to bed a lap dog.”

 

Link scowled. “You’re not forsaking anyone or anything. You’re just getting a variety package.” Chin high, Link stepped forward boldly and placed a hand on Ganondorf’s chest. “The best kind of package.”

 

Ganondorf stood tall. Just because he had sprung the trap didn’t mean he had lost the game. “You seem to be a very controlled person. But I bet that, deep inside, you’re aching for someone to pin you against the wall and make you scream. So let me present some new terms.” He loomed close, face half in firelight, half in shadow. “If I make you sing tonight, you’ll give the Gerudo all that I ask for.”

 

Link’s smiled wavered. “…I don’t have the authority to change the terms.”

 

“Don’t make me laugh. She’s listening in on this conversation, isn’t she? She’s even telling you what to say.”

 

Link shifted, but before the Hylian could slip away Ganondorf cupped Link’s face. In the darkness of the room, they felt truly alone. The hum of the castle was gone, leaving only the crackle of the fire and the sound of each other’s breathing.

 

“It’s not fair if only you can come out the better,” Link murmured. “Gamble something of your own.”

 

“I suppose that I could relinquish my claim to a territory or two,” Ganondorf said. His voice dropped to a growl. “But what do you think you could possibly _make me do_?”

 

Link inched close, leaning in. He was a breath away. “I’ll make you come so fast you’ll regret it.”

 

They fell against each other. Link kissed the way he fought—a battle of lips and teeth and tongue. Ganondorf found his spirit an arousing challenge. The Gerudo snuck his hand up the back of Link’s tunic and stroked down the _S_ of his spine, all the way down to his tailbone. Fingers dipped into the valley of his ass. Link melted in Ganondorf’s grip, his mouth falling open as he gave in to sensation.

 

Ganondorf grabbed Link and hauled him into the air. He was heavier than the Gerudo would have guessed, his skin so warm that heat seemed to seep straight through his clothes. With a _whump_ they knocked against the desk-dresser. Ganondorf shoved Link against the mirror, the parchment scrunching beneath his ass. Link yanked off the Gerudo’s shirt and sent his fingers dancing across bronze skin. His touch was fleeting, giving just enough to stoke the fire. Ganondorf felt his hair stand on end. He realized he’d never before been teased. No one had ever dared.

 

Ganondorf also realized that he was aching; his erection was grinding painfully into the wooden dresser. Pulling away, he tried angling himself so their cocks would slide against each other, but Link locked him in with his legs and ground against him aggressively. Ganondorf would have responded in turn had he not noticed the absence of the other man’s hard on—something that needed immediate fixing. The Gerudo’s hand slipped between them to cup Link’s package—

 

Ganondorf froze. He pulled himself out of Link’s hold and looked down between his legs. The tunic was a damp, dark green with nary a bulge. Eyes flicking to Link’s face, Ganondorf cautiously reached down and pinched the hem between his fingers. The Hylian leveled the other man with a waiting stare. Ganondorf pulled the cloth away.

 

There lay smooth, pink lips glistening with desire. Nestled between them was a tiny bud of a clit. A golden mess of hair grew above.

 

“Well?” Link said, challenging Ganondorf to take him as he was or leave him be.

 

Ganondorf answered by swooping down for a taste. He gripped Link’s hips, holding him captive as he tongued his clit. It was delightful, figuring out what to touch, each twitch and tremble reframed for a new body. Its incongruence—a stimulating puzzle. When Link whimpered, the sound sent a jolt straight to Ganondorf’s cock. The Gerudo licked a teasing circle around the entrance, then again, deeper, right into the thick of it. His tongue pushed inside like a fish swimming upstream, flickering and lurching, falling back slightly before diving in again.

 

The mirror wavered as Link trembled against it. He felt like his whole body was contracting around a spot in his core. Reaching out, the Hylian traced Ganondorf’s cheek, his brow, the bridge of his nose. He could almost see his face, see his lips working as they ate him out. He quivered at the prick of teeth. He opened his eyes and saw Ganondorf, his gaze smoldering, commanding Link to come. Link moaned as something deep inside of him quaked.

 

Ganondorf swallowed the flow. He wasn’t worried about having fallen short of his goal; this was just the warm up. Link lay collapsed on the dresser, skin flushed and damp. Ganondorf pulled the tunic off of him, leaving him naked at last. Then the Gerudo removed his own pants, his dark shaft springing free. He paused to admire his handiwork—Link glistening, eyes starry. Ganondorf kissed his cheek, then lifted his hips and sank into his heat.

 

It was like sliding into a tight, wet glove. Heat wrapped around his cock, squeezing it magnificently. Link groaned between his teeth, his head falling back as Ganondorf sank deeper. It seemed he was having a hard time adjusting until he, in a flash, reached out and twiddled Ganondorf’s nipple.

 

“Fuck!” Ganondorf bucked violently, his hips lurching as if yanked by an invisible marionette. In one fell swoop he was balls-deep. Link yelped, throwing his arms around Ganondorf’s neck for dear life. They clung to each other, breathing and soaking in the feel of each other’s bodies. Ganondorf buried his nose into Link’s shoulder. The Hylian was so tight and so warm that it dragged a groan from the back of Ganondorf’s throat. He couldn’t help shifting his hips, couldn’t help sliding out and thrusting back in. His breath came faster, his movements urgent, and soon Link was making small sounds of pleasure to match. Link’s lips found his mouth, the scruff of his jaw, his shoulder. And when Link kissed his throat, right on his pulse, hot blood raced through him. His fingertips turned white as he grabbed Link’s hips and thrust them together.

 

Link moaned. His voice was gravely with desire, and it almost made Ganondorf’s buckle— _almost_. Link went for his nipples again but Ganondorf grabbed his wrists and pinned them against the mirror. He couldn’t have things ending so quickly. Yet Link’s body clenched around him, drawing a strangled grunt from the Gerudo. He thrust harder and faster, driven by the pounding of his blood. Link’s heat squeezed all the way down his length, pushing him towards the edge—

 

Ganondorf came with a jerk and a shout. Dark spots danced in his vision. His head fell back, baring his throat.

 

Link froze in surprise, then burst into laughter.

 

 _By Din!_ Ganondorf thought. He hadn’t even lasted a minute. He tried to muster up some clever words, but the orgasm had left him gasping.

 

Link leaned back. “It seems that the forces of good win again.” Ganondorf didn’t know how someone so sweaty and naked and stuffed full of cock could be looking down on him, yet here he was.

 

Ganondorf mumbled some words to himself. Link would’ve raised an eyebrow had he had the energy. “Oh? What was that?”

 

Ganondorf’s grin glinted in the darkness. His voice was rough. “It’s not over yet.”

 

Link tensed—he could feel Ganondorf swelling inside of him. The Gerudo’s brow knitted in concentration as he channeled energy downwards into his gut and loins. His cock pulsed to life, and Link could feel every inch of it. Ganondorf thrust slowly, intimately, his shaft seeking the deepest parts of his partner. The Hylian sighed as Ganondorf sank to the hilt.

 

Their foreheads touched. Ganondorf cupped Link’s cheek and kissed him. This time it was soft; they could hear the sigh of each other’s breath. Link tried to shift his hips forward, but his position on the dresser allowed him little reign over the pace. Ganondorf chuckled darkly.

 

“Touch me,” Link demanded. As Ganondorf kissed him again, Link closed his eyes and let himself feel— _feel_ —the lips on his neck, the nails running across his ribs, his sternum, his stomach, feel the huge hands that hefted him by the ass and squeezed.

 

The dresser wobbled as they rocked against each other. “Let me hear you,” Ganondorf said, angling their bodies so that he could slide in deep. Link’s mouth fell open—all that came out was a gasp.

“Come on,” Ganondorf murmured into his ear. He pressed hard against Link, trapping him between his body and the dresser, and thrust sharply. Link choked down a wail. Ganondorf thrust again and again, surrounded by the sound of Link, the smell of him. Another thrust—Link’s breath shook; his nails carved tracks across Ganondorf’s back.

 

“ _Come on!_ ” The dresser rattled. Link cried out. His eyes clenched shut. All he could do was hang on while Ganondorf drove into him. Until now, he had never known what it was like to truly be fucked. Fucked without reprieve, like nothing else mattered—

 

With a heave, Ganondorf pried himself out of Link’s grip and stepped back.

 

Link gaped. His whole body was all wound up with desire. The absence of Ganondorf’s weight, the brush and smell of his skin, made him feel indescribably deprived. “What are you doing?! Come back—“

 

Ganondorf simply grabbed him and flipped him over, bending him over the edge of the desk and thrust inside, using his weight. Link was pushed against the mirror. He saw his reflection, his cheeks flushed, saw Ganondorf pinning him from behind. Then everything was blurring, his breath fogging up the glass. His body began to tremble. His eyes stung with tears. He could hear someone screaming but it sounded so distant in the face of his clenching body and the iron grip on his hips. Someone’s voice was moaning his name—

 

And Link came. It was like every bit of himself that had wound up released all at once. His body ran hot with pleasure. Cum shot inside of him as Ganondorf pushed them hip-to-hip, forcing Link to take every last inch of his cock.

 

They lay on the dresser, exhausted. It was quiet save for the crackling fireplace.

 

0-0-0

 

 

The next morning, Ganondorf woke up to the soft, scratchy music of pen on paper. Blearily, he blinked until he could see Zelda seated at the desk, scribbling on the parchment. The warm body curled against his side told him that Link occupied the other half of the bed. With a grunt, Ganondorf stretched his achy limbs and rolled off the mattress and onto his feet. How he and Link had gotten onto the bed was a mystery, one he decided to overlook in favor of grabbing his pants off the floor and quickly shuffling into them.

 

“Don’t bother,” said Zelda. “I saw your dong already.”

 

On the bed, Link shifted at the sound of her voice. Buckling his belt, Ganondorf thought back to the beginning of their night. “How did you tell him to go forward with my proposal?”

 

“Oh, well, we were facing each other. It was pretty easy to just nod at him.”

 

Ganondorf hunkered forward, unsure of what he was hearing. “…What?”

 

“I was in the room, on the bed, invisible.”

 

Ganondorf choked. “You mean, you saw—you _watched?!”_

 

Her face remained stoic as ever until suddenly her tongue flashed across her lips. It happened so fast that one might have imagined that they’d seen it at all, save for the wet glimmer left behind.

 

Ganondorf felt his self-worth shrivel.

 

Zelda swept the parchment off the table and headed towards him. The crumpled scroll bore some of last night’s stains and was very wrinkled, but Zelda presented it to him like it had been stamped with gold. Ganondorf scanned the script and saw all the necessities that he’d demanded, plus a few thoughtful additives inlaid by Zelda’s hand. And it was fair to Hyrule’s properties, not overtaxing. For the first time in history, it seemed like they were getting along.

 

With a swish of the pen, Ganondorf added his name to the bottom next to Zelda’s. The wet ink gleamed in the light like a promise.

 

An hour later, Link awoke. By then, Ganondorf was long gone, already on his way back to the Valley. Princess Zelda was working at her desk (which gleamed with a sheen of disinfectant); at the sound of his rustling, she took a seat next to him and ran a hand through his bedhead. “Well done, Hero of Hyrule.”

 

Link stretched, unconcerned with his nudity. “It’s my job to defend our beloved homeland.”

 

“Feh. Don’t give me that fealty shit,” said Zelda. “I know your contract. Your ass belongs to this country, and you _will_ shake it on command.” She turned her head to better see the row of hickies climbing Link’s throat. “I see you’ve sustained a few battle wounds. Take the day off.” She kissed his brow.

 

“Mmm,” he said a little dreamily; the scent of her perfume always made him relax. “I hope you don’t mind if I stay right here.”

 

Zelda paused, and Link could see her thinking two—no, three—steps ahead. “Of course,” she said softly. Then she retreated back to her desk and resumed working.

 

Link didn’t give it much more thought, simply throwing a sheet over himself and curling up. Gradually, his breathing deepened, and he fell into sleep’s gentle embrace.

 

Zelda’s pen stopped scratching. Glancing up, she spied Link on the bed, his face the picture of peace. Then she selected a conspicuously large pen from her tin of utensils; she gave it a twist around the middle, and it hummed to life. Quietly, she walked over to Link and threw the thin sheet off of him. With little more than a mumble, he rolled onto his stomach, his toned ass on display. Zelda crept back to her seat and lifted her skirt. One eye on Link, she held the vibrator to her nethers. How she loved politics—how she _loved it._

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider leaving a comment! I would LOVE to know what you think


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